Kissing My Imagination
by Aelotia
Summary: Oneshot. James Potter has stolen both her mind and sanity. What could be worse? Oh, i forgot to mention, he's stolen her dreams as well.


Disclaimer: I hereby disclaim.

Aelotia's Note: This is a sort of play on a cross between trashy romance and cliché fluffiness. I've been working on this oneshot for quite a while. I think it might just be my favorite.

Kissing My Imagination

There is not a day that goes by when I don't slap myself.

I'll be sitting in the common room, talking to someone, when it hits me.

_Slap._

It'll also come up in the middle of a lecture.

_Slap._

_Hell_, it even appears when I'm in the loo.

_Slap. Slap. Slap._

No, it isn't the urge to expel gas or a sudden wave of narcolepsy.

It's the very thing I hate most.

James Potter.

-

I cursed my mind once again for betraying me.

I slapped my hand to my forehead as I always did to punish myself and rolled out of bed.

Hello! My name is Lily Evans and each day I have unlawful thoughts of James Potter.

(Insert Ironically Sweet Smile Here)

The best part about all of this is I'm neither cursed nor drugged. It's all me! But don't go thinking I like James Potter. I despise the git, but my mind seems to like it when I question my sanity.

What sort of unlawful thoughts, you ask? Well, I wont go into detail, but I will let you know he's everywhere. In my dreams, daydreams, sudden thoughts, and if I look hard enough my birthmark on my bum does have some resemblance…

Not that you needed to know that…

_Ooh_, guess what?

I'm late for class.

I made a dash for the bathroom and got ready. After brushing my teeth, washing my face, combing my hair, putting on clean socks, I was decent. I flew down the stairs in what would've been record time had I not tripped on the last step.

It was a slow-motion moment. I was flailing my arms, decending to the ground with my eyes closed, when out of nowhere a secure arm wrapped around my waist. I knew it was him and opened my eyes…not noticing before how much of a carpet he looked like.

…

I banged my head on the floor.

You wanted to know what type of dreams so here it is!

Hope you're satisfied you smarmy bastards.

But don't go and worry! Having day-dreams on the oddest of times is perfectly normal for me.

I need a reality check.

"Alright, Evans?" A voice said from underneath me.

_Ooh_, here's one now.

I looked down and saw...

A. A Giant spider

B. My life in shambles

C. James Potter

If you guessed C, you are correct.

Although B would've been acceptable…

"Oh, Bugger," I said.

Dolt. You might've caught me.

He shifted under me and before I knew it I was standing again, two hands under my arms.

"Are you--?" He began.

"No," I said quickly, wrenching away from him and speeding out the common room, ignoring the tingly feeling in my armpits. I'm pretty sure armpits are NOT supposed to feel tingly. I rubbed them soothingly and went down to the Great Hall.

-

Its amazing how joining the quidditch team and getting some "experience" can change a person.

There was once a time when I tolerated James Potter. In our first couple of years he was almost _nice_ to me. I'd ask him something and he'd give me his full attention and answer with a quick yes or no. I actually sort of liked the pink that would tint his cheeks when I came near him…

…

This is before I went insane and started having imaginary rendezvous, of course.

…

Shut up.

-

I took my place in Herbology and tried to ignore the ugly flower that was sniffing me.

(Somehow this seems to be foreshadowing something)

(Something ominous)

(…)

(So beware!)

_He_ and his friends appeared moments later, their seemingly permanent smiles plastered on their faces. I stiffened as they stood next to me.

"Why do you do this to me?" I asked the opaque roof of the greenhouse.

"Alright, Evans?" Black asked, giving me a cheeky grin.

I ignored him and watched the pile of dirt infront of me with the uttermost interest. And I continued this throughout their morning conversation. Today the topic was "farm animals".

"I daresay Filch needs a _goat_." Black began.

Here we go again.

"Here, here."

"I'll second that."

"Jovial idea. But I can never tell a goat from a sheep." Potter said.

And I can't tell a marauder from a great big talking growth.

"Ah, my friend, that's what sheep dogs are for." Black said, wagging a finger at him.

"Then is there such a thing as goat dogs?"

Is there such a thing as getting stupider with each passing second?

"Doesn't matter. Dogs can do anything." Black said pulling at his collar in a proud way. "They have highly intelligent communication skills and are perfect companions."

At the rate he's going he'll be going on about what good snogs they are as well.

"Personally, I don't like dogs." I said.

They all looked up at me.

Black turned his nose. "I suppose you wouldn't. I reckon you're more of a forest animal lover, _nay_?" He said, catching Potter's eye.

I frowned at the inward joke that seemed to be in his grey eyes. "Sure, if by you mean squirrels, rabbits, deer—"

There was instantaneously an uproar of laughter.

"Deer!" Black choked, slapping his hand on a sticky-sap tree, and ignoring the fact that it wasn't coming off.

"Yes. Deer." I said, with a firm glare. Dumbass Marauders.

"Perhaps we should take Evans out to see some deer, nay?" Black said, ribbing Lupin and sticking his side to the sticky-sap tree as well.

I rolled my eyes and noticed two hazel eyes gazing intently at me.

"Deer, eh?" Potter breathed, the scent of something sweet meeting my nostrils.

Was that treacle tart?

I couldn't help myself but to slightly close my eyes and lean in to—

_SPLAT._

Something mushy hit my face. I wiped it off to reveal mudd.

I looked around to see Black, free hand muddy, looking at me with an eyebrow raised. I turned back to see Potter with the same puzzled and annoyed expression on his face.

"Were you just _sniffing _me, Evans?" He inquired.

Damn. Dreaming again.

I blanched and said, "Don't be stupid, Potter." I said, before shoveling at the dirt in front of me with all my might and ignoring the squeals it was immiting.

"Someone get this bloody thing off me!" Lupin cried, thankfully, drawing attention away from me to himself.

"Just take off your shirt, Moony…"

-

What is it about guys in romance novels that is so appealing? Most are rough around the edges with horrible personalities, but somehow they just seem alluring to me. Perhaps it's because I want to melt their icy hearts. Perhaps it's their confidence and macho-ness . Or maybe it's their spontaneosity.

But I'll bet anything that its their ability to do the perfect thing at the perfect moment. They know when to be assertive, when to kiss, and when to bring on the angst.

This is something James Potter is not good at, for he is always disappointing me.

Not that I care, or anything.

I'm just using him as an example.

Irritated, I slammed the trashy romance novel shut and stuffed it inside my bag. I cursed myself for checking it out the library. _That_ was a waste of a lunch period.

Those damn things are probably the start of all my imaginary rendezvous.

Or maybe it's your undeniable attraction towards a rough-around-the-edges boy, hmm?

No.

Thinking about melting his icy heart, eh?

No.

Secretly like his cockiness and big-head?

_NO._

Craving assertion, kisses and angst?

_SHUT UP!_

Damn. Now I'm talking to myself.

I kicked the wall.

Damn.

That didn't hurt enough.

I looked out a window overlooking the courtyard and—surprise surprise—there he was. Surrounded by his group of scalawags, of course, but there nevertheless. They were sitting by the fountain with their robes and hair disheveled and I stopped to watch them.

He was laughing, the echo of it carrying throughout the courtyard.

I sighed distressfully.

How might it be to be with them? Sitting around and laughing at something James said. Would I laugh into his shoulder? Would he put an arm around me? Would I--?

"EVANS!" I snapped out of my reverie and noticed I was leaning against the window in a day-dream position with my head on my hand. Perfect and easy position to slap myself.

I looked down to see Black mooning me with his clothes on. _Lovely._

I gave him a not so nice hand gesture and scurried off, my face burning crimson.

Since when did I pine for someone? Wasn't I once the pinee?

_Pinee_? I'm losing my marbles.

Oh, well at least I'm not speaking in rhymes.

-

I had walked into Transfiguration thinking how nice it was that Potter wasn't there and how much work I could get done with a clear mind. You see he had quidditch practice on the quidditch pitch on the other side of the school.

That was before Profesor McGonagall called me up to her desk, of course.

"Miss Evans will you take this down to the quidditch pitch. It's for Mr. Potter." She had said, handing me a note with "DETENTION" scribbled on the front.

And by then I just had to ask the heavens: Why me?

"Thank you Miss Evans." She said curtly and I trudged along like the obedient child that I am. Does she honestly think I'm safe going to the pitch alone? I could get kidnapped. I could get molested. I could kill someone and end up in Azkaban.

Yes, when you're a potential psychopath the buddy system is the only way to go.

I reached the pitch to find most of the team sweaty and jogging to the locker rooms.

There was only one lone soul still whizzing in the air.

Heh.

Might as well get it done and over with.

"POTTER!"

I didn't think he heard me until he made a quick lurch for the ground.

"You called?" He said, musing his already messy hair.

"Detention." I said quickly, shoving the note at him before turning around. He caught my arm and I felt my face heat up.

"Want a ride, Evans? Just a quick one around the castle." His smirk showed it would in no way be quick.

I internally bit my lip. Externally I rolled my eyes.

Then he leaned in close so his breath mingled in the air making my head spin. "I swear to have you back early."

A sudden flash of us both flying in the air went through my mind. As he did dangerous flips and rolls, I'd hold onto him more and more tighter. Until he'd stop somewhere pristine and secluded and there we'd somehow be able to overcome the complexity of meeting eachother's faces on a broom. And then…And then…

I quickly shook my head, waking up from my reverie.

"I'd rather not, Potter." I said, immediately recognizing our old routine.

I snatched my arm away and walked back towards the castle.

"Always a no, eh Evans?" He called out. I turned around in time to catch his sad smile before he returned to the sky, where he did sharp whirls and twirls.

To me, it seemed his own imagination was taking over, making him think.

…

What does he think about?

_Goats_, no doubt.

Anyways, _Slap._

-

Damn authors.

Reminder to self: Boycott all trashy romance novels

Additional Reminder: Actually do it this time

I pushed the hair out of my eyes and stared angrily at the last page of my book.

"And so petite Isabella Florence MarcAnthony watched as the muscular Barnaby the thief walked away with his shoulders slumped dejectedly. She let him go."

…

What the hell! I stayed up for hours, reading, for this!

I sat there a moment trying to calm myself down.

Breathe, Lily, Breathe. Any moment your sanity and your life will walk through the portrait hole and we can all pretend you're not a raving lunatic.

…

I'm waiting.

…

I threw the book with all my might at the portrait hole and stared in horror as it swung open.

It made a loud _SMACK_ in the empty common room as it hit the portrait-hole-opener's chest.

Hahaha, Look! It's James Potter to take my soul! Merlin knows my common sense and very dreams aren't enough.

"Sorry, Evans. Bad time?" He looked at the book and read the title. "_Muscles and Manners_?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

I blanched.

Damn romance novels with their stupid titles.

"Give it." I mumbled jumping out of my seat and snatching the book away.

Now is NOT the time for another imaginary tryst.

I turned around but his hand caught my shoulder and turned me around.

"You alright, Evans?" He asked, his hand rubbing the back of his head.

Oh yeah, I'm perfectly peachy. Except for the fact that whenever I'm around you I seem to daydream about…Stuff.

Even more, it also happens when I'm _not_ around you.

"Would you quit asking me that? I'm fine." I said with more malice than I intended.

I bit the inside of my cheek and watched as his hazel eyes went from alarm to something unfamiliar…

Is that disappointment?

I quickly looked down at the book in my hands. On the cover was a muscular man holding a petite girl. _Not_ what I need to see right now.

"Sorry." He hesitated before pulling back his hand. He paused awkwardly for a moment before slowly walking past me.

I looked up to see him ambling away with his shoulder slumped dejectedly.

Now that I look at it they're quite—_GASP_—Muscular.

"And so petite Isabella Florence MarcAnthony watched as the muscular Barnaby the thief walked away with his shoulders slumped dejectedly. She let him go."

Perhaps it's not Potter who's been disappointing me, but me who's been disappointing him. So many perfect opportunities for so many perfect moments and I just pushed them away. The best situations aren't always perfect, it's how you handle them that make them ideal.

…

Right? Right? Damn it, I just had my first revelation and you have nothing to say?

"She let him go."

I snapped back into the present and focused on Potter's retreating figure.

"Barnaby!" My voice echoed throughout the empty common room, embarrassing myself.

He flinched and stopped.

Oops.

Mood killer. Seriously.

"Er—I mean Potter." I strided over to him until I was facing his back.

Slowly he turned around, looking down, his eyes watching intently.

"Well—what I mean to say is—maybe—maybe I'm not so fine…" He looked at me curiously.

I looked down at my hands and noticed I was still holding the book. I threw it away immediately. Blanching, I continued. "I don't mean to whine—I mean—I'm perfectly in line—but uh—"

Oh, Merlin.

I'm rhyming.

_Badly_, not to mention.

That's it. All reason and sanity has left me.

…

Now what do I do?

I quickly looked up, startling Potter, and lunged forward, kissing him.

He'd been taken aback but recovered quickly, wrapping his arms around me, sharing the kiss. Soon my head was dizzy and everything seemed to be spinning in a hazy blur. Surely it was another daydream. Another annoying trance. Another damned reverie.

I lifted my hand…

_SLAP!_

I opened my eyes and saw Potter staring at me in shock.

One hand clasped to his reddened cheek, his glasses askew.

"Ow." He breathed.

"Right—well—that's what you get for stealing my dreams." I said dramatically before hurrying past him, a smirk threatening to play on my lips.

I could feel his smirk on my back as I walked up the stairs.

Or maybe it was just my imagination…

THE END.

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